


A Different Kind of Poe Party

by NellyHarrison



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Never Have I Ever, Party Games, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 07:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NellyHarrison/pseuds/NellyHarrison
Summary: At Lenore’s insistence, Edgar throws a party at his house, inviting some of his… acquaintances.  However, the entertainment that Lenore offers them after dinner is a bit more than any of them bargained for.  What will happen when the authors play Never Have I Ever and Spin the Bottle?





	A Different Kind of Poe Party

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written sort of last minute for Shipwrecked Comedy's fan contest #shipwreckedfive. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but I ran with it and am really happy with how it came out. It's mostly silly, but it's Poe Party, so what can you expect haha I hope you like it!

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Lenore?”

For the millionth time since being in his service, Lenore rolled her eyes.  “Has anyone told you that you worry too much?  Seriously, take a chill pill.  I know how to throw a good party, and as fun as a murder mystery might be for  _you_ , if you want to get with that redhead you’ve been crushing on,  _this_  is the way to do it,” she assured him, nodding certainly.

“I-I didn’t throw this party for Annabel,” Edgar scoffed, shaking his head and stammering unconvincingly while Lenore simply waited for him to give up the pretense.  “Alright, fine, maybe the  _thought_  of impressing Annabel came to mind when we started planning, but this is more than that,” he insisted.  When he was met with judging silence from his manservant, he gave her a look.  “Believe what you will, this party is meant to unite some of the greatest writers of our time.  If I wanted to impress Annabel, I wouldn’t merely  _throw a party_.  I would show up to her house on her birthday with a heartfelt poem, and when I would finish, I would declare my love for her and we would ride off together into the sunset,” he explained, his expression getting wistful before Lenore cleared her throat, returning him to reality.  “Theoretically, of course.”

Lenore snorted at that, pinching her lips together before sarcastically replying, “Sure, honey.  Whatever you say.”

Before Edgar could attempt to defend himself, the doorbell rang.  “What is that rapping at my chamber door?”

“Okay, first: not a rapping.  That’s a doorbell,” she told him, clearly done with his dramatics.  “Secondly,  _you invited these people here_!”  She was met with an awkward grin, causing her to mentally curse him as they both stood and went to answer the door.

Over the next half an hour or so, people arrived, settling into the dining room where they would have dinner before the real festivities began.  Annabel and her date Eddie were the last to show up, the latter much to Edgar’s dismay, but he put on a brave face and greeted them both with about as much friendliness as he was able.  They all began eating, each course passing without much issue.  There was an awkwardness among all of them, and no one could tell if it was simply because they had never all been in the same place at the same time, or if something more was at play.

Once the last course was finished and the dishes were cleared away, Edgar stood from his seat.  “I invite you all to join me in the parlor where our evening’s entertainment - courtesy of my manservent, Lenore - will commence.”  He led the way into the parlor, Lenore taking up the rear with a large bottle of alcohol in her hand.  “You never told me there would be drinking,” he whispered to her.

“It’s a party, you big square.  Loosen up.  I promise, it’ll do you a world of good,” she encouraged, patting his cheek playfully before walking into the center of the room.  “The game is Never Have I Ever,” she started, going around the room and pouring everyone a glass.  “It’s pretty basic.  When it’s your turn, you will say something you have never done, and phrase it like this: Never Have I Ever worn a brown belt with black shoes.”  Annabel and George gasped at the mere idea of doing such a thing, the former looking at the latter curiously before he cleared his throat and bowed his head.  “Once a Never Have I Ever statement has been made, everyone that has done it has to drink.  So Louisa May, chug-a-lug.”  The author from Massachusetts opened her mouth, about to object, but the knowing look from Lenore had her lifting her glass and taking a sip.  “We’ll go around the circle so everyone gets a chance to go.  Now, there’s no rule  _against_  specifically targeting people, but I will say doing so often leads to major drama.”

“Who should start?” Annabel asked.

“Well since you asked…” Lenore trailed off, smirking over at the woman as she took her place in the circle.  “After you, Miss Lee.”

“Me?” she paused, looking around the room before nodding.  “Very well then,” she replied, pinching her lips together pensively as she considered what she had never done.  “Oh oh, I have a good one.  Never Have I Ever been published!”

Practically everyone in the room groaned and lifted their cups to drink, while Lenore couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.  “Oooh she got you guys  _so_  good.  Well done, Red,” she complimented, shooting Annabel a wink.  “Alright, your turn Eddie.”

“This might be a bit more difficult for me, as I am just so very cultured and experienced,” he warned, chuckling with Annabel, who was just enamored with the man.  “Never Have I Ever… had a bird obsession,” he finally declared, meeting Edgar’s eyes with a hint of mischief in his own.

“Pretty sure that was a direct hit at you, son,” Lenore commented, hiding her smile behind her glass as Edgar grumbled and took a sip from his own.  “Next!”

The game continued for quite a while, a few personal jabs thrown in with more generic statements.  By the time they had gone around the circle twice, everyone was a little drunk.  “Are we ready for the second game?” Lenore asked the room, laughing when she was met with encouraging cheers.  “This one will require an empty bottle, which we fortunately have now,” she started, lifting the now-empty bottle of alcohol.  “And we should really get closer.  Ladies, grab a pillow if you must, but everyone gather in a circle on the floor.”

“The floor?” Charlotte questioned, aghast at the suggestion.  “But my dress!”

“That’s what the pillow’s for.   _Duh_ ,” Lenore retorted, tossing one to the woman before grabbing her own and sitting in the circle.  Everyone joined her, some albeit hesitantly, but once they were all settled, she continued with the instructions.  “We’ll go around the circle again, but this game has less talking and more… physical communication.”

“Physical communication?” H.G. asked, eyes wide.  “Y-You don’t mean…”

“I most certainly  _do_ , goggles,” Lenore replied, a smirk growing on her lips as she looked around the circle.  “The next game is Spin the Bottle.”

“Oh!  I’ve heard of this!” Oscar exclaimed excitedly.

“I have not.  What are rules?” Fyodor questioned, brows furrowed.

“There aren’t so much rules as there are instructions,” Lenore corrected.  “And like the last game, they’re very basic.  When it’s your turn, you spin the bottle, like so,” she began, spinning the bottle.  “Whoever the bottle lands on, that’s who you have to kiss.”

“What?!” chorused everyone but Ernest, who looked far too cheerful, and Oscar, who was relishing in the shock on everyone else’s faces.

“You heard me.  And to avoid too much cross-kissing, if you’ve already gotten kissed, then your turn has basically already happened.  Process of elimination and all that.  Now, first up on the Lenore Love Train is…” she trailed off, watching as the bottle slowly came to a stop in front of Mary Shelley, who was shooting daggers at it before her anger shifted to Lenore.  “Hey, this is a game of chance.   _Fate_ , if you will.  Are you really trying to fight fate?”  Mary huffed, remaining unmoving before sighing and letting her hands fall to the floor.

“Very well.  If fate wishes for us to kiss, then a kiss it shall have,” she declared, leaning across the circle and placing her lips against Lenore’s in a brief, polite kiss.

“Not bad, Shelley.  Not great either, but we have the rest of the night to work on it,” Lenore joked, shooting a wink her way before picking up the bottle and handing it over to Oscar beside her.

“Are you really sure that  _I_  should go next?  Whoever has the great fortune of receiving my kiss may never find someone who will measure up again,” he warned, his lips pursed as he looked around the circle.  “Oh, well, if you insist,” he gave in, spinning the bottle.  Rapt attention was paid as it circled around and around before slowing and stopping in front of Ernest Hemingway.

“Hey, wait a second, I didn’t know this would mean I would have to kiss a guy.  I can’t kiss a guy!” Ernest insisted, hoping someone would support him.

“But Miss Shelley just kissed Lenore because the game required it.  Are you saying you are not secure enough in your own masculinity to participate, Ernest?” Annabel questioned, a small, rare grin appearing on Edgar’s face in response.

Ernest squinted at her, expecting her to break or for someone else to let him off the hook, but eventually, he sighed and looked over at Oscar.  “No tongue, Wilde.”

“No promises,” Oscar joked, crawling towards him and gripping the back of his neck before planting a very bold kiss on his lips.  He wiped at his lips as he pulled away, a smirk growing as he settled back in his seat.

“Well?” Charlotte prompted.  “How was it?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells,” he replied, shaking his head with a soft  _tsk-tsk_.  “Besides, I believe it is your turn,” he added, handing the bottle to her.  “Spin away.”

Charlotte took the bottle and spun it in the center of the circle while everyone watched, Annabel letting out a surprised gasp when the bottle landed on Eddie.  He didn’t seem all that phased, and the two shared a kiss that lingered a few seconds too long for anyone else’s comfort.  The game continued on for a while, with each pairing eliciting different, usually objective responses.  H.G. kissed Louisa May next, leaving them both a little flustered, but it was Mary Anne - sorry - George that was left as red as a tomato after a kiss from Fyodor.

“Looks like the only two left are you and Annabel,” Lenore announced.

“Actually, I haven’t gone yet,” Emily tried to chime in, but no one heard her.

“This is your chance,” Lenore whispered to Edgar.

“Did you plan this?” he asked, just as quietly, but his tone harshly inquisitive.

“I may have shifted the bottle a few times to make sure neither of you kissed anyone else,” she admitted, looking somewhat apologetic before giving him a look.  “Are you telling me you  _don’t_  want to kiss her?”

“Not like this,” he insisted, but the temptation was definitely there.  He straightened up and looked over at Annabel, who was watching him with curious, kind eyes.  It was the same eyes that he had fallen in love with time and time again.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.  I know you came with Eddie, and I want to respect that.”

“Don’t be silly, Edgar,” she replied, already moving closer to him.  “It’s just a game, right?”

“R-Right,” he nodded, swallowing dryly as she entered his personal space.  “Just a game,” he repeated, his tongue darting out against his lips.  He reached up and cupped her cheek gently, his eyes locking on hers as his heart skipped a beat.  They had never been this close before, and now that they were, he wanted to remember every moment.  Their kiss was much slower than everyone else’s, both hesitating as they leaned in.  However, once their lips touched, it was like the rest of the world slipped away.  It was how he wished their interactions could be every time they were together.  By the time they pulled away, Eddie had stormed off, Charlotte following after him, but Edgar didn’t care.  He had wanted to kiss Annabel for so long, and now that he had, he couldn’t find a single shred of remorse in his whole being.

“Wow,” Annabel breathed, smiling softly at Edgar.  She was stirred to reality by the sound of a slamming door, her head pulling swiftly away and turning to see what had happened.  “Where’s Eddie?”

“He left,” Lenore answered.  “I’m pretty sure Charlotte went with him.”

“Oh my…” she muttered, standing from the circle and rushing out to try to stop her date.  She was too late, of course, and Charlotte was nowhere to be seen either.

“I’m sorry,” Edgar spoke from behind her, causing her to turn and face him.  “I shouldn’t have let Lenore be in charge of the games.”

“You don’t have to apologize.  Eddie is not as innocent as he wants me to believe,” she sighed, fiddling with the fabric of her dress.  “The fact that he so easily departed with Miss Bronte is evidence enough of that,” she added, taking a few steps towards him.  “It’s for the best.”

“Is it?” he asked, his eyes locked on her as she approached.  “How so?”

A soft blush flooded her cheeks as she stopped right before him, her head lifting to meet his eyes.  “I do not think it is Eddie that I should be spending my time with.”

Edgar gulped at that, not wanting to get too hopeful as to her meaning.  “Then who should you be spending your time with?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” she answered, reaching over and taking his hand in hers.  “I am fond of you, Edgar.”  His eyes widened, his expression looking less calm and collected and more panicked meerkat.  “Please say something?”

He shook his head, his mouth opening before he had gathered the correct words before closing once more.  He chuckled (yes, chuckled!), then swept Annabel into his arms.  “Oh Annabel Lee, you have made me the happiest man alive,” he told her, swinging her around before settling her down on the ground again.  “May I have permission to court you?”

Annabel smiled brightly at that, nodding fervently as she gently took his face in her hands.  “Nothing would make me happier,” she replied, meeting his lips in a deep kiss full of promise.

If she could see them, Lenore would have been cheering over her successful plan.  However, she was a bit too preoccupied in the attic with a certain science fiction author.  Now that, she would have to admit, was not part of the plan, but an amazing side effect nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! A big thanks to Shipwrecked Comedy for creating such amazing content and bringing to life such exciting and interesting characters. Congratulations on five years, and here's to the next five!! :)


End file.
